His Butler, Again
by Tubular Fox
Summary: Young master? Could it really be his young master again, after all this time? After all of these years, this boy...reincarnated? Slight SebastianXCiel
1. His Riddle

*~*~*

"_**Two strangers pass in the middle of the night on the street."**_

"…_**What?"**_

"_**One man looks at the other as the other looks at him. They exchange not a word, only a token from each of them to the other and the brush of hand as they pass."**_

"_**Sebastian, what is the point of this?"**_

"_**Please be patient, young master, and I will explain it."**_

"_**Fine, continue, then."**_

"_**No one else is around on the street to see them; it is completely deserted."**_

**_*~*~*_**


	2. His Imagination

"Rachel, who is he talking to?"

"Who? Oh! Just his imaginary friend, Anne. Nothing to worry about. He just has an overactive imagination, like all kids."

The woman in red nodded and smiled, going back to her tea and polite chatter with her sister. Then Rachel said something funny and the sounds of the women's laughter rang out across the lawn.

The little boy huffed and stood up, brushing the dirt off of his pants and smiling at the empty air beside him.

"Come on, Sebastian. It's getting loud out here. Let's go in."

* * *

Notes: This is the beginning of a new, completely finished fic. It is a reincarnation AU. Please note:

_Italics_ are flashbacks

_**Bold italics **_are the back story/theme/explanation of the story. These will be posted at the beginning of the relavant chapter.

'Single quote line things' denote thoughts

All chapters will be relatively short, but there is a reason for them to be split as they are, and it's usaully for style or impact. :) Please enjoy, and review!


	3. His Friend

***~*~***

"_**If no one is around, young master, who is to say that either of those men existed?"**_

**_*~*~*_**

'M-a-r-c-h. 2-1. 2-0-0-5.'

He wrote slowly, trying to make the letters and numbers as clear as he could, so he would be able to read what he wrote when he looked at the paper again later.

'T-o-d-a-y i-n m-a-t-h I—'

"Sile? Sile! There you are, Sile! Why aren't you outside? It's recess!"

The boy looked up irritably from where he was sitting at the desk. His bright blue eyes came to focus on the figure of the young girl bounding toward him in the dim room. He tried not to flinch away from her overly-loud voice.

"I never play outside, Lizzie. Haven't you realized that yet? I don't have time!"

The girl pouted, but bounced closer to him to see what he was writing. "What'cha doin', anyway? Your day plan?"

"Yeah. If I don't write it down, I'll forget." The boy turned his attention back to his paper as the girl leaned further over to read in the slight light.

"You should turn on the light in here, Sile. You'll go blind before you're twenty!"

"I'll be fine," he retorted. "And how many times do I have to tell you? It's Ciel. _See-ell._"

Lizzie blinked and then grinned. "Oh, so you want to play the pretend game again? Okay! I love pretending to be the lady of grand house. And your wife to boot!" She beamed and hopped up to sit on his desk. "So, grand Earl Phantomhive, what shall we do today?"

Sile glared at her.

"…You're mocking me."

He stood up and grabbed his papers, tucking his pencil behind his ear after a few tries.

"No, I'm not! I promise I'm not, Si—Ciel! I promise!" Lizzie jumped down off the desk and laid her hand on the boy's shoulder, trying to stop him from leaving. He shook her off.

"Come on, Sebastian. It's almost time for—for…" He sighed and checked the notes written on the palm of his hand. "Yes, almost time for English, thank you." He walked past Lizzie and out the door, but not before putting his tinted glasses on.

Lizzie watched him go sadly.

* * *

Okay, time for an explanation. Ciel's reincarnation, Sile (pronounced Shee-leh, as far as my gaelic skills go), has developmental dyspraxia. It interferes with his fine motor skills, meaning he can't do buttons, can't tie laces, can't write very neatly, etc. It also stuck him with an system of weak muscles, so he has very bad stamina and gets tired doing even very menial things. He has trouble tracking the speed of oncoming objects, such as cars or people in a crowd, and has light and sound sensitivity. Because of his dyspraxia, he also has a very, VERY bad short term memory. His long term memory is phenominal, stretching even as far back as his previous life.

And there's the problem. He still thinks that he's Ciel, not Sile. He knows that his parents are alive, and he knows what day it is and stuff, but he still thinks that he's an earl. Most importantly, he still thinks Sebastian is around. The Sebastian he is talking to is imaginary, and he just makes up Sebastain's replies as if the demon were actually there, because he thinks he is. Okay?

All my info came from wikipedia, so sorry if it's wrong. Please review, and continue to enjoy!


	4. His Encounter

***~*~***

"_**That's simple, Sebastian. One man will be able to verify that the other existed. Now bring me my tea."**_

"_**I'm afraid you haven't quite solved the problem, young master."**_

"_**Why not?"**_

"_**A man's memory can prove to be a faulty, fanciful thing. It can be deceived, or it can forget. Or it can invent. Who's to say that one man did not simply imagine the other?"**_

**_*~*~*_**

He sat on the school steps, waiting for his mom to arrive and pick him up. He fiddled with the hem of his shirt, trying to recall whether she'd said she'd be picking him up _there_ or at the library. Or was Dad picking him up?

He sighed and stood, just about to leave when—

_Bee-beep._

"Sile! Honey! Over here!"

His mother's golden hair caught the sun and flashed as she leaned her head out the car window, making him squint, even behind the tinted lenses. He gathered his things and pulled one of his backpack straps across his shoulder, jogging to the car. He was huffing a little when he got there and his mother looked at him sternly.

"Sile, you know you have to be careful when you're running because of your—"

"Yes, Mum, I know. I'm sorry," he interjected quickly, hoping to stave off another lecture by sounding appropriately apologetic. It worked, and Rachel's face settled into a fond smile as she helped her son throw his things into the back seat.

"So, how was school? Did you have fun at recess?"

"…Yeah. Lots of fun. I played dodge ball with some of the other kids." A blatant lie, and they both knew it, but his mother didn't say anything. "I…didn't get my homework plan done, though."

Rachel sighed, but smiled at her son in the rearview mirror. "That's all right. I talked to your teachers before I came to pick you up, and they gave me a list of your assignments."

Sile smiled back at his mother and turned to watch the scenery of their quiet little suburb pass by outside his window, when suddenly—

"Mum! _Stop the car!_"

"What?!" Startled, Rachel braked and then pulled into the shoulder, glad that there was no one behind her. "What is it, honey? Did you forget something at school?"

But Sile didn't answer. Instead, he was too focused on the man in a black suit who stood on the sidewalk by the corner store. Seeing his intense concentration, Rachel turned to see what he was looking at.

As they watched, the suited man turned to help an elderly gentleman out of the black car that was idling by the curb. Rachel knew him to be a very mean, quite despicable old man, and not someone who she'd like her son to be associating with.

But Sile was already out of the car.

The ten year old boy had slipped out after fumbling with his seatbelt and begun to dash across the road. And while the street was not usually busy, school had just gotten out so there was a fair amount of traffic from the high school.

Rachel could only watch in horror as her only son darted out onto the pavement and into the path of an oncoming minivan.

"_Sile!"_

The minivan slammed on its brakes, as did the other cars behind it, and soon all traffic had stopped. The man who had been driving the van exploded out of the driver's side door, whipping his head around frantically as Rachel bolted across the road.

"Sile? Sile! Honey, where are you? Are you all right?"

"Ma'am—"

"Oh my God. I'm sorry! He just came out of nowhere!"

"Ma'am—!"

"Hey, is everything okay? What happened? What's going on?"

People began streaming out of their cars, crowding around the scene. This was a small town, so everyone recognized Rachel, and they knew that the only person in the world who could have been hit must have been her son—

"_Ma'am!_"

Everyone fell silent and turned to the man in the suit. In his arms was the shocked boy—gloriously unhurt. Rachel's strength crumbled and she dashed forward to take her son from him, smoothing Sile's gray-blue hair away from his face and rocking him back and forth.

"Thank you, thank you so much, sir. I don't know how I could ever repay you," she sobbed. "You saved my baby's life." She lifted Sile's chin to examine his face, but he was unresponsive, the shock still overloading his brain.

The man smiled gently, brushing slightly too long dark brown hair out of red-brown eyes. "I require no payment, madam. It was my pleasure. He looks like a fantastic young lad."

The light British accent and slightly outdated way of speaking broke Sile out of his spell.

"Ah!"

"It's all right, honey, shh…you're okay." Rachel hugged Sile closer, and then looked back at the stranger, who was being impatiently gestured away by the elderly gentleman from before. "I can't thank you enough, sir. If you ever, ever need anything, my name is Rachel Phantom."

The man nodded and was about to reply when he was cut off.

"Tamesis, come along. We don't have the time to waste all day here."

The man, Tamesis, nodded to the elderly man and turned. His eyes seemed to linger on Sile as he did so, but he didn't stay behind as his acquaintance began to walk. Rachel carried her son back to the car and fastened him securely into the seat, even as he squirmed and twisted to keep his eyes on his savior.

She was too relieved to lecture him now, but it was coming.

Tamesis stayed a step behind Mr. Sullivan as the man went along his way, planning his conquests and talking to himself while his dark shadow stayed silent. Indeed, Tamesis was deep in thought. Something had been so familiar about—

"Sebastian!"

He froze dead in his tracks. Whipping around, he saw young Sile craning around his mother, who was trying to close the car door, staring at him. The tinted lenses had fallen away to reveal startlingly blue eyes that were _so familiar_—

"_Sebastian!_"

Unconsciously, Tamesis took a step forward, feeling the delicious burn on the back of his left hand that signified a direct order from his…

From his…

Rachel shut the door and tossed him an apologetic smile over her shoulder. She smoothed back her frazzled blond hair and slid into the driver's seat before starting the engine.

Tamesis could see Sile still shouting, but his ears could no longer pick up the sound of the boy's voice. But he could hear it, ringing inside his head.

'_Sebastian!'_

"Tamesis! Come along, I _don't_ have all day."

"I—Yes, my Lord."

And though his body turned and left that fateful spot, his mind remained there for days, running the scene over and over again in his mind.

'…_Young master?'_

* * *

And so a man in black appears. His new name, Tamesis, is an old English name that means 'Dark One'. Sile is Gaelic for 'sky'. Aren't I creative?

Please review!


	5. His Memories

***~*~***

"_**Fine, then, Sebastian. If memory isn't good enough for you, what about the tokens that the two men exchanged?"**_

**_*~*~*_**

"_Young master. Young master! It's time to get up." Light streamed in through the newly opened curtains, and the boy rubbed his eyes and blinked. "For breakfast today is fruit salad, scones, Earl Grey tea, and—"_

"Sile? Honey, it's time to get up. Do you want cornflakes for breakfast this morning?"

_A sigh._

"_Young master, you really must get up now. There is a lot to do today!"_

"Sile, you really have to get up for school now. If you miss the bus, I'll drive you, but you have to get dressed and eat breakfast. You have a lot to do today!"

_No response._

"_Fine, then. Stay in bed and be unprepared for your aunt's visit. I imagine she won't be very pleased to find you in such a state. Never mind your bangs being combed back, you're hair isn't even combed at all!"_

"Elizabeth and her mother are coming to have tea with us after school. Maybe Lizzie can help you with your homework? Oh, but you'll have to clean your room before they come."

_Blink. "Fine—"_

"—you win. I'm up." Sile swung his legs out of bed and put on his tinted glasses as his mother cautiously opened the shades. "Yes, I would like some cornflakes, Mum. Have you seen Sebastian around?"

Rachel smiled, trying to hide her worry. "No, honey, I haven't seen Sebastian. Aren't you…getting a little too old for imaginary friends?" She wondered if she should be bringing that up, since talking to 'Sebastian' seemed to help her son remember things more easily, almost as if 'Sebastian' was actually answering her son's questions.

Once, when she'd asked Sile why he asked Sebastian what he had to do, her son had told her that Sebastian remembered things so he didn't have to.

…The child psychologist assured her that Sile didn't have MPD.

Sile gave her the look that he usually reserved for very annoying and persistent adults who didn't understand what he was talking about and sighed.

"Mum, Sebastian's not imaginary. How many times do I have to _tell_ you?"

"Don't you give me that tone, or you'll get another 'running-into-the-busy-street' lecture."

"Aah! I'm sorry, Mum! I didn't mean it." He looked down at his toes and shuffled his feet. "…I love you."

"I love you, too, honey. Now come over here so I can help you with your buttons."

Sile wandered forward to where his mother stood holding his white button-down school uniform shirt.

"One button, two buttons, three buttons," Rachel sing-songed as she slid them into place.

"Four buttons, five buttons, six," Sile mumbled tiredly as he closed his eyes and pushed his glasses up, trying to rub some of the sleep out of his eyes.

"Seventh button, collar button, don't forget the cufflink buttons," his mother hummed, finishing the song that she hoped would help teach Sile to button his own shirts when he was older.

"Why are there so many buttons on this shirt?" Sile grumbled as the last cuff was buttoned. "It's unfair."

"It's so I still have an excuse to treat you as my baby. Leg up."

"I can put my pants on by myself, Mum!" Sile complained, so Rachel took a step back and let him pull on the navy shorts himself. She'd modified them to be elastic-waist so he wouldn't have to worry about buttons or zippers.

She turned up his collar and looped his light blue school tie around his neck.

"I want to do it! Can I do it, Mum?"

"Of course you can, honey," Rachel said with a smile, surreptitiously checking Sile's bedside clock over the boy's shoulder.

They didn't really have time—

But she didn't have to worry about that, because Sile got fed up with not being able to tie it after a minute or two and let her do it.

She watched her son pull on his knee socks and then helped him with the buckles on his shoes (he sorely disliked laces) before buttoning up his vest, tucking in his shirt and tie, and ushering him downstairs for breakfast.

"Eat quickly now, Sile, or you'll be late for school," she cautioned, heading to the cupboard to get out the cereal.

"Just get me a bagel, then, Mum. I can't eat cereal fast." He was already shrugging into his blazer and heading to grab his books so she sighed and grabbed the cream cheese, spreading it over the two halves before she followed her son out the door.

Time for school.

-----------------

He wasn't sure why he was here. No, scratch that, he knew _perfectly well_ why he was here, but he wouldn't be able to verbalize it to anyone who asked, so he was glad that no one did.

He just needed to see that boy again.

The school that owned the crest on the boy's jacket hadn't been difficult to find, so here he was sitting in a tree across the street watching all of the children arrive.

He would leave, of course, if Mr. Sullivan required his presence, but for now nothing needed his attention in that household.

And there—there, getting out of the car with half of a bagel in his mouth, was the boy he'd saved yesterday. The one who'd recognized him.

Tamesis smiled.

This boy, who looked and acted so much like his young master, who called him Sebastian even though nothing but his red eyes had remained from all those years ago…eyes.

And it was the boy's eyes that were the most familiar of all of his features as well. They held a certain strength, a certain determination that was unique to the memory of his young master.

And the eyes were the windows to the soul, right?

Tamesis leaned back against the trunk of the tree as Sile disappeared into the building. "Reincarnated, young master? I never would have thought. And to imagine, finding you again, at this point in your life!"

He closed his eyes and tipped his head back, allowing a small smile to grace his features that was more real than any since that day…

------------------

"_Then, young master."_

"_Is this the last place?"_

"_Yes," Sebastian replied, straightening from placing his master onto the stone bench._

"_The targeted bird," the boy muttered contemplatively, glancing over his shoulder._

"_Yes," Sebastian said again, watching his master with serene eyes; eyes that did nothing to betray the turmoil swirling in his chest._

"_The rest of my soul is yours," Ciel assured him, and Sebastian managed a half-smile._

"_As expected from the young master. You're kind."_

_There was a beat of silence as the words Sebastian wanted to say all rose together and clogged themselves in his throat. Ciel saved him from choking by raising his hand to his eye patch._

"_Will it hurt?"_

"_Yes, a little," Sebastian told him honestly, though he wished he could tell the boy that no, no it wouldn't hurt at all. For some reason, he didn't want to see him put through any more pain. So he kept his smile as he spoke, trying to ease his young master into…whatever came next. "I'll keep it as gentle as possible…" _'Because I want to,' _Sebastian realized. _'Because I don't want to hurt you.'

"_No. Make it as painful as you can. Carve the pain of my life into my soul." Ciel gazed up at him, eyes shining earnestly in the dim half-light of that place. Sebastian couldn't help but feel suffocated, right then._

_Some…_emotion _was swelling up in him, blocking his thoughts and cutting off his air. An emotion that he couldn't name—wasn't sure he wanted to—was slowly killing him._

_All that escaped from his mouth was a small noise of surprise._

_His face relaxed into a smile; a smile so fake it hurt to remember it ever being aimed at Ciel. He took a knee, for what would be the last time._

"_Yes, my Lord."_

_Ciel leaned his head back—tiredly, sadly; a movement too old and weary to be that of a thirteen year old boy—and Sebastian raised his hand to remove his glove. The sound of the light cloth hitting the ground was much louder than he'd ever thought it could be, and his footsteps—the four very slight steps he took forward to his lord—rang out like gunshots in his ears as they bounced around the stone._

_His lord's face was cold when he touched it. _

_And that was his undoing._

_He ran his hand gently over the boy's face, closing that blue eye for just a second to remove the eye patch that covered his mark of ownership. Eyelids half-hid the familiar gaze as his master just looked at him._

_Sebastian leaned in, seeing himself reflected in Ciel's eyes. His pointed canines and red eyes were not something he wanted to see right now, but he had to convince Ciel it was real._

"_Then, young master."_

_Sebastian pressed his lips to Ciel's and the boy's eyes closed. His breathing, as it was, came to a stop, and his shoulders relaxed for possibly the first time since Sebastian had met him._

_The boy was well and truly gone._

_The demon sighed and broke the kiss, pulling Ciel's body down from the bench and cuddling it to his chest. He rested his chin on his mas…no, his previous master's head and closed his eyes._

_He hadn't done it._

_The boy's soul had moved on into whatever afterlife awaited him. All that was left was this body, this construct that Sebastian clung to as if it were the boy himself. But devoid of the soul, this body had no meaning at all._

_This was not his young master._

_He had let his young master's soul go; hadn't consumed it. Mixed with the taste of his regret and that emotion, the one that had seeped down, down into his very bones to reside with his sorrow, Sebastian was sure his young master's soul would only have been bitter._

_The kiss had been only that, and something he realized he'd wanted to do for quite some time._

_He pulled the cold body closer and buried his face in the blue-gray hair. "What have you done to me, young master?"_

_The boy made no reply._

"_I am but a butler to the core. But what is a butler without orders? What is a butler without a master?"_

_Sebastian reached up and gently stroked the boy's face again before removing the ribbon from around his neck. He lifted Ciel back onto the bench and wound the ribbon around his hand._

"_I have only been your butler for two years, young master, and yet you have managed to capture me completely. Wasn't it supposed to be the other way around?" He leaned down and pressed a kiss to Ciel's forehead before standing and turning his back on the boy. He took a deep breath to compose himself and faced him again._

_Sebastian watched sadly as Ciel's body began to fade, vanishing from sight like the smoke of a dying fire curling up into the night. The demon stood gazing at the bench for a long time after Ciel had disappeared._

_Stood, as if waiting for an order._

_Finally, he sighed and placed his hand over his eyes. A short, humorless breath of laughter escaped him, and his shoulders tensed to ward off any more unwanted sounds. They were too loud, too piercing in this unnatural quiet that had settled around him._

_He closed his eyes so he wouldn't have to look at the crumbled stone walls and the empty woods. Memories of clumsy maids, charred cooks, peaceful old men, and destructive gardeners paraded across his mind, interspersed with dessert, after dessert, after dessert. They spun in a continuous cycle around a rude, bratty, selfish boy who Sebastian had come to…love._

_He lowered his hand from his face and opened his eyes, staring down at the ribbon. He closed his fingers over it and let out another breath of laughter._

"_How long have I waited for this? For silence? For an end to the ceaseless demands?" He took one last glance at the empty bench and then turned his back on it. He walked through the forest to the edge of the shore where the boat was still waiting._

_He tightened his grip on the ribbon._

"_What have you done to me, young master?" he whispered again, quietly. "What do I do now?"_

_The wind whipped his empty sleeve away from his side, the sound of the cloth in the breeze the only noise in the otherwise still night. There was no sound from the woods, and no answer forthcoming._

"_I—"_

_He took a steadying breath and raised his hand to his face again, feeling the ends of his master's ribbon brush against his face._

"_I am alone."_

_---------------_

But he was no longer alone. That boy, across the street, was the spitting image of his young master. He was the owner of the blue ring Tamesis wore on a chain around his neck, the ring _Sebastian_ had killed for, and he was the owner of the ribbon that was tied securely around Tamesis's wrist, under his sleeve. He was the owner of Tamesis's unswerving loyalty.

He was the owner of his heart.

* * *

Yay! Really long flashback. The dialouge in the beginning is taken straight from the end of episode 24. Please review!


	6. His Reality

***~*~***

"_**Tokens, young master? But tokens can be lost. How many times have you misplaced something and required me to find it?"**_

"_**Not that often!"**_

"_**Often enough, young master, for it to matter. And if you did not, or could not, tell anyone else about this token, you would be the only one who could find it, wouldn't you?"**_

"_**Yes, Sebastian. I would be the only one able to find it. Now what is the point of this?"**_

**_*~*~*_**

The only problem was, did the boy remember? He obviously recalled something; he had identified him as 'Sebastian,' after all. So the boy had a least some memories of their first years together.

Tamesis shifted to make himself more comfortable while he thought, and it was then that the call from Mr. Sullivan came. It was short, brusque, and very rude. Oh, how he longed for the days when his young master would simply call his name to summon him! There was no, "get in here, you lazy asshole."

Simply, "Sebastian."

Tamesis drew out his pocket watch and checked the time before easily jumping down from the tree and running to where Mr. Sullivan was. The call turned out to be for some menial, unimportant task that for some reason required his attention _right now_.

He was pleased to find that he hadn't missed recess when he returned.

From where he had resettled himself in the tree, Tamesis could see Sile sitting in the shade of the building with a blonde girl. Her pigtails bounced happily as she laughed, and Tamesis smiled.

So, Miss Elizabeth had joined them, had she?

Later, Tamesis would not be able to say what had prompted him to go closer. His current master had expressly forbidden excessive socializing, lest people figure out the Tamesis never aged (did Sullivan really think he'd be around long enough for people to notice?). But here he was, voluntarily making himself open to conversation.

Hopefully conversation with his young master.

As he approached the side of the building near where Sile sat, he watched the boy suddenly begin to rub his right eye. Said boy glanced around, as if looking for something—

"Sebastian! There you are! You haven't been around all morning!"

"Sebastian?" the girl next to him asked confusedly. She peered around and let out a tiny shocked gasp when her eyes landed on Tamesis. "Oh my God. Sebastian's really _real?!_"

"Of course he's real," Sile huffed impatiently, as if explaining this for the thousandth time. "Who did you _think_ I was always talking to?"

'Talking to?' Tamesis wondered, but that wasn't important.

"Good afternoon, Lady Elizabeth," he said, stepping into the sunlight with a smile. "How are you?"

"G-good, Sebastian," she stuttered out, still shocked. "I never thought that you were really…"

"That's quite all right, my Lady. It doesn't matter now, does it?" Tamesis said, holding out his hand to help Sile off the ground. The boy took it and stood, letting Tamesis straighten his clothes and brush the dirt off his pants.

"Where have you been all morning?" Sile demanded, turning to fix a pointed gaze on Tamesis. "And what have you done to your hair?"

Unconsciously Tamesis raised his hand to his brown hair and tugged at it, sighing.

"Mr. Sullivan didn't like black hair," he answered, not sure how Sile would react.

"Well, who cares what he thinks? …Who is he, anyway?" Sile's eyes wandered over Tamesis and paused when he reached Tamesis's left hand.

"You got your arm back, I see. But where are your gloves?" He reached over and snatched Tamesis's hand, examining it closely. "…It's gone. Sebastian, why is it gone?"

Tamesis floundered for words. Didn't his young master remember? Was he unaware that it had been almost a hundred years since they last saw each other?

"I swear you had it yesterday. You were still wearing gloves when I asked you what my next class was!"

Tamesis placed his hands on Sile's shoulders, trying to calm him down. "Young master, please relax. Everything is all right."

"No!" Sile exclaimed, taking a step back from him. "If you don't have it anymore, then…then you're not _mine_. You're not Sebastian!"

The silence that rushed in to fill the gap left by those words was deafening, exploding in Tamesis's ears like a strong bone being violently broken. The sound of the other children ceased to exist.

The only thing he could hear was the sound of his own shallow breathing.

Not Sebastian? …No, the young master was right. He was no longer Sebastian. He was Tamesis, the unwilling servant of a horrible, ugly old man. And he would be for however long it took until that same man died.

Then, shrill and piercing, the bell that signaled the end of recess rang out across the playground. All of the noise that had disappeared seconds before came flooding back, momentarily disorienting him. When he caught himself and looked up, Lizzie was leading Sile by the hand, back toward the door of the building and away from him.

She kept glancing over her shoulder at him, like he was some sort of predatory animal that would follow them inside. She didn't know what had happened, but she knew it had upset Sile.

And she would protect him.

Tamesis watched them go, listening to the small words of comfort Lizzie offered her friend, vague and sweet and trying to cover all points of the hurt she knew he felt.

"Shh…shh, Sile, it's okay. Everything will be all right, okay? Let's just go back inside. Next we have English, remember? You like English. English is fun, right?"

"Yeah…" Sile muttered, staring at the ground. "Yeah, sure." And then he froze, shoulders stiffening. "My name is Ciel, Lizzie. Ciel Phantomhive."

He spun around to glare at Tamesis, blue eyes hard. As hard as the stone walls that had enclosed their last encounter when he was 'Sebastian' and his master was 'Ciel.' As hard as the bullet that had gone through Sebastian's head in the Ferro family mansion when he had gone to save Ciel.

Hard, like the bullet that had killed Ciel when Sebastian had done nothing.

"You…you, not-Sebastian, you promised you would never betray me. You promised you would never _leave_ me!"

The boy's shoulders shook minutely as each shaky breath filled his chest.

"You…"

A sigh, and the boy's eyes closed.

"You're not Sebastian. Go away."

Tamesis opened his mouth, though he wasn't sure why. To plead? To explain? But Sile kept talking.

"You're _not_ Sebastian," he repeated. "Go away."

Their eyes met.

"Go away and come back when you are."

The school doors shut.

* * *

Tension rises. Poor Sebastian. I really love Lizzie, though. She's so cute!

Thanks to all those who have read and reviewed so far, and please review now!


	7. His Torment

***~*~***

"_**But a token can not only be lost, young master."**_

"_**Fine! Just tell me what the point is!"**_

"_**Not yet. I'm not done. A token can also be given away. It can be handed off to someone else, willingly or not, just as easily as it can be lost."**_

**_*~*~*_**

His head reeled as he sat on the steps, waiting for his mother to come and get him. After he had met not-Sebastian today, everything had turned upside down. Here he was, a displaced earl with no butler, no protection, and no idea what he was supposed to do.

Sebastian wasn't around to help him remember things anymore.

He checked his watch. It read _3:15_, and that meant that his mother was almost ten minutes late. Where was she? How come she didn't come to get him? She hadn't left him, had she? Sile buried his face in his knees, trying not to worry about it. It was true he was a difficult child to live with.

What if she'd gotten tired of doing his buttons?

He looked up as a car pulled up, but it wasn't his mother's or father's so he looked back down at his knees.

"Sile Phantom?" asked the man who got out. "Is that you, kid?"

"Huh?" Sile glanced up again, studying the man more closely. "Maybe. Why?"

"Phew," the man said, rubbing his neck in relief. "Thank God it's you, kid. I guess I shouldn't be surprised; you look just like Rachel."

Sile shifted a bit further back on the steps. "How do you know my mum?"

"We work together at the catering place, remember? I'm Mr. Erikson. I suppose it's not a surprise you don't remember me. We only met once." He smiled in an open, friendly manner at Sile and extended his hand.

"Your mom got caught up at work and asked me to pick you up."

Internally, Sile was warring with himself. He didn't want to stay here all night until his mother could come to get him, and his dad was at home, busy with work, so Sile didn't want to bother him.

But they'd also told him never to get into the car with a stranger.

Then again, if he had met this man before, it was very likely that he wouldn't remember him. His condition had given him a very bad short term memory, so depending on how long ago it was that he'd met this guy…

"What's the password?" he asked cautiously.

"Sanctuary," the man replied, and Sile beamed. It was okay to go with this man! If he knew the password, then everything was all right. His mother had told him.

And as he climbed into the car, Sile never once stopped to consider why his mother hadn't just called Lizzie's mother to ask if Sile could get a ride home with them.

-------------------

The car was quiet as Mr. Erikson drove, and Sile was uncomfortable enough not to try and break the silence. On and on they went, and finally, Sile had an excuse to talk.

"Umm…I think we missed my street."

"Shut up, kid."

Sile's head whipped up to look at the man in the rearview mirror. "What? I thought you were bringing me home!"

"No home left for you to go to, kid. Now _shut up_."

They hadn't missed Sile's street. He found this out as they approached the black column of smoke rising into the otherwise clear sky. The man even drove onto a side street that passed the smoldering remains of what had been Sile's home.

Paramedics were loading two sheet-covered bodies into an ambulance.

"No!" Sile yelled. "Mum! Dad! _No!_"

The man reached back flailed his arm around, trying to hit Sile and make him be quiet. After three slaps, the boy fell silent, just staring in horror at what was left of his life.

Mr. Erikson pulled out his cell phone.

"Yeah, boss? Their deaths are confirmed, both the Mr. and the Mrs." His eyes flicked up to watch Sile in the mirror as the boy gaped wordlessly out the window. "Yeah, yeah. The brat's here in the car with me."

There was a pause, and Sile turned to look at the man.

"What? No he's not dead! He wasn't there when the fire started—" Erikson held the phone away from his ear as loud, angry words streamed out of it, but Sile couldn't catch what was being said because of the static.

"Well how the hell was _I_ supposed to know he'd be in school? I sure as hell don't have any kids!" Then the man blanched, and his tone became more polite. "Yes, sir. Yes, sir. Yeah, I'm interested in being _able_ to have kids in the future."

Sile was desperately interested in learning who was on the other end of the line.

"Yes, sir. Okay, got it. Bring the kid to you, and you'll deal with him. Yes, sir."

Mr. Erikson met Sile's cold eyes in the mirror.

"Yes, right away, Mr. Sullivan."

-------------------

Tamesis sighed as he re-alphabetized the books in the library for the third time, this time by author's last name and then by subject. Sile's words rang out in his head in a continuous loop; "_Go away and come back when you are."_

Come back when he was Sebastian. That would be at the end of his contract with Mr. Sullivan, when the man died. When he was dead, Tamesis got his soul.

But was that soul really worth being separated from his young master?

He sighed and looked down at the back of his bare left hand. Why was it that he could still feel the burn of Sile's orders when the contract mark was no longer there? Was it just a phantom sensation, a figment of his imagination?

A wishful thought?

But that didn't matter now, he reminded himself, because the burn from Mr. Sullivan's contract seal on his shoulder was all too real. Tamesis set down the book he was holding, pulled on his coat, and left the library.

What did the crotchety old man want now?

* * *

The plot thickens! What will happen? And I honestly don't know how Erikson found out the password. Who knows how long these creeps have been watching Sile and his family? Maybe he overheard it when Rachel was reminding Sile? I don't know.

**A big thanks to all of the people who have reviewed so far!**

**Oh, and a side note to one of my non-account reviewers, Mickey**: Thanks! I know the footnote could have been slipped in, but when I was first writing this, it was going to take a whole nother direction from the one it's taking now. It was going to end up with Sebastian being hired by Rachel to watch Sile, and she was going to explain to him what eaxctly was wrong with Sile, thus having everything explained nicely and in just accordance with my artistic vision. But then, while I was riding my bike and about halfway done with this story, I-legitly-saw two people walking down the street who I had never seen before. They lifted there heads, met one another's eyes and nodded, and then continued on. I was like, "Whoa!" and cut my ride down so I could go home and write what had just hit me.

All that came out of it was the bold sections, which lined up very nicely with what I had already written (which was about the end of last chapter), and a whole new direction for my story to take. I loved the beginning too much to change anything, and when I tried to write in an explanation, I hated it because it felt too clunky and too expositiony for my tastes (possibly because the way the story was originally planned out, Sile's condition was supposed to be a mystery until Sebastian was hired). And after that, the story really moved too quickly for me to fit it in anywhere else. I know it actually wasn't that big of an issue, but I just wanted to clear it up. And, thanks agian!

Please review!


	8. His Rescue

***~*~***

"_**What about the touch, then?"**_

"…_**The touch, young master?"**_

"_**You said that their hands brushed as they exchanged the tokens. That's a sign of existence, isn't it? That's proof. If you can touch it, it's real."**_

"_**So you believe that just because the men touched each other, that's proof of their existence?"**_

"_**Well, isn't it? You can't touch something that's not there, Sebastian."**_

"_**That's a very romantic notion, young master."**_

"_**Wha--!"**_

"_**However, after a while, every touch becomes the same as another. Perhaps even his own hand could wipe away the feeling of the other."**_

**_*~*~*_**

Sile was hauled out of the car by two muscular men and through the large doors of the house. It must have been at least six miles out of town if Sile's guess was accurate, and there was literally no one around for miles.

It really was the perfect place to kill someone.

Sile didn't struggle for more than a few minutes, because those few minutes had taken all of his strength. They tied him up and gagged him, just in case he screamed. But who would hear him, all the way out here?

They brought him to the dining room and sat him in a chair at the end of the long table, undoing his gag now that they were in the depths of the house. At the other end sat a man eating, who Sile presumed was Mr. Sullivan. There were plates and silverware lined up neatly, as if they were expecting many more guests.

Sile knew this meeting would be private, though.

"Ah, you must be young Mr. Phantom," the man said after a few minutes. "It's very nice to meet you. I'm Mr. Sullivan. Edgar Sullivan."

Sile didn't say a word.

"Didn't your parents teach you any manners?" the man asked, wiping his mouth with a napkin. "When someone introduces themselves it's only polite to do the same."

Still, Sile remained silent.

"Oh well. Nothing we can do about it now, is there? If they didn't teach you manners, they'll never get another chance!"

Sile gritted his teeth, but once again refused to comment.

Mr. Sullivan narrowed his eyes.

"Bring the brat over here," he commanded, and the two men from before jumped to obey the order. They carried Sile over to the man and dumped him unceremoniously on the floor in front of Mr. Sullivan's turned chair.

"Take off his glasses. I want to see the naked fear in his eyes."

Once again, the men obeyed, one removing the glasses and the other stepping on them. Mr. Sullivan leaned over and seized Sile's chin, turning his head and forcing their eyes to meet.

Sile was not afraid.

"Boy, do you have any idea what I'm going to do to you? What I did to your _parents?_" Sullivan hissed. He leaned in closer. "Still not afraid? Then you have no idea what I'm capable of."

He was just about to let go when all of a sudden.

"What is _that?_" Sullivan demanded, yanking Sile's head closer. "There. Boy, what is that on your eye?"

A smile twitched at the corners of Sile's mouth.

"Someone get me a light," Sullivan ordered. One of the bulky hired-hands left to get it, and Sullivan spent the entire time he was gone angling Sile's head to get a better look at his right eye.

"Give it here," Sullivan barked when the man returned, and he flipped on the penlight, shining it directly into Sile's eye.

The boy gasped and shut it immediately. The pain from his light-sensitivity was making his eye water. Sullivan forced the eye open again and moved the penlight around, tracing the faint, almost non-existent, pale outline of the Faustian pentacle on the iris.

"What the hell—"

The doors of the dining room opened, and in strolled Tamesis. "Yes, Master, what is it?"

"Tamesis. Here, I brought you a little hors d'œuvre to snack on before our contract ends. I hope it will help with your hunger, because I don't plan to die for a long time!" Mr. Sullivan placed his foot on Sile's chest and kicked, sending the boy flying into the wall.

"You have my permission, no my _order_, to eat his soul. So have at it!"

Tamesis strode forward, gracefully pulling on white gloves. As he passed by the table, he picked up the forks and knives, slipping them into his sleeves.

"Tamesis…" Sullivan breathed as the demon approached the end of the table. "What's wrong with you? Why—why is your hair black?"

"Tamesis? Who is that?" the demon asked with a pointy smile. "I'm quite sure I've never heard of—"

"Don't be a fool! No games, demon! Just kill the boy!"

"Kill him? Why on earth would I kill my young master?" The pointed grin widened as fear slowly filled Sullivan's eyes.

"What—what are you talking about? I'm your master! I _order_ you!"

"I accept no orders but those of my master," came the smooth reply. "Young master, what shall I do to them?"

Silence fell over the room until Sile began to chuckle. "Sebastian, I'm renewing our contract with the same terms as those of the one before."

Sullivan began backing up.

"Your first order—kill them." Sile's pentacle flared to life and Sebastian's hand burned.

Red eyes flashed and he slid the silverware out of his sleeves, taking a knee before Sile. "Yes, my Lord."

The knives and forks slid home into the heads of Sile's antagonists, all of them except for Mr. Sullivan.

"I believe that a knife in your skull would be too short a death for you, Mr. Sullivan. And not painful enough by far, right, young master?"

"Quite," Sile agreed. "Untie me."

Sebastian rose and did so, and Sullivan began to talk, backing up until he was trapped against the wall.

"I—I don't understand. Why aren't you obeying my orders? _I'm_ your master. _Me!_"

"Oh, come now. Surely you must remember what I told you? The closer your contract is to your eye, the stronger it is. You, who has your contract on your shoulder, simply could never stand up to my young master. His orders take precedence."

Sebastian stepped forward until he was standing in front of Sullivan.

"And besides, I've always been partial to black hair."

Mr. Sullivan collapsed into a hysterically muttering heap, rocking himself back and forth. Sebastian took a step back and placed and embarrassed hand over his eyes.

"Why on earth did I ever make a contract with a sniveling weasel like you?"

Sile stood and stretched his arms.

"I'm tired of listening to his whining. Just shut him up, Sebastian."

"_Yes_, my Lord."

The man's soul was slimy, much like Sebastian had imagined it would be, and the screams much less satisfying than he'd hoped. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and stood, picking up Sile and carrying him to the door.

"Now, then, Sebastian, say my name."

"Your…name, my Lord?"

"Yes. Say it."

"Of course. Where would you like to go, Ciel?"

The boy sighed and settled against Sebastian's shoulder.

"Take me home, Sebastian."

---------------

There was still a crowd outside of the charred walls of his house when Ciel and Sebastian arrived. Sebastian opened the car door for Ciel and helped him out onto the pavement. Immediately, a woman in red raced over and hugged the boy.

Sebastian blinked.

"Oh, Sile! You're all right! You're okay!"

"Yes, Auntie, I'm fine." The ten year old peered up at his aunt, wondering if now was the right time to correct her—hopefully for the last time—on what his name was. But the look on her face said she was far beyond reason at the moment.

"Honey, your parents are—"

"Dead, I know." He said it with such finality that Anne stopped hugging her nephew for a moment to look down at him.

"Are…are you all right?" She took his face in her hands and examined the length of black cloth that was wound around his right eye. It looked like it had been torn from a coat—

The man who had brought her nephew home spoke up.

"I assure you that he is physically sound, madam."

"I—thank you. Who are you?"

"My assistant," Ciel said. "His name is Michaelis."

"Thank you for bringing Sile home, Mr. Michaelis, but I'll take it from here." Anne wrapped her arm around Ciel's shoulder and led began to lead him over to the paramedics who were still around in case there had been anyone else in the house in need of help.

Or, if they'd found the boy's body.

"I'll make sure he's all right myself, if you don't mind."

And what could Sebastian do? Object?

"Auntie, I'm fine. Really." Ciel slid her hand from his shoulder and turned to her. "And my name is Ciel." He looked at her so seriously that she didn't have the heart to say anything. His parents had just died.

Now wasn't the time to argue about what he wanted to call himself.

"Does the boy have anyone he can stay with?" asked one of the police officers on the scene. "Ma'am? Is he staying with you?"

"I—" Desperately she wanted to say yes, yes her nephew could stay with her, but her work was taking her out of the country that very night. She had no time to grieve, let alone take care of a child!

All she had was a demanding male model to dress up in red for a show.

"I—"

"It's okay. I'll call Grandpa," Ciel said, patting her hand. "You go to Paris. Someone should tell him, anyway." Ciel got a cell phone from one of the policemen and flipped it open.

There was a distant roll of thunder, and the clouds opened.

He raised the phone and dialed the number, waiting for the first drop of rain to hit him. Waiting for it to fall and wash away everything he had been until this moment. Could a life just be washed away like the grime of a happy day spent outside in the sun?

Did he want it to be?

But the rain never hit him, never made contact with the skin that may or may not have been coated in a life that was no longer his, because of the black coat being held over his head.

"I'm afraid I don't have an umbrella, young master, so this will have to do."

Ciel glanced up at Sebastian; took in the smiling face, the water dripping from the end of his black hair, the care in his eyes…

And took a small step closer to his butler, feeling the warmth of the demon's body through his slowly soaking clothes. The one spot of warmth in this dark, cold existence that had found him again.

He closed his eyes as the phone began to ring.

* * *

The fic is coming to a close. Any thoughts on who the fussy male model is? The first two guesses don't count. XD

**PIMPING MY VIDEO! **I made an AMV for Imogen Heap's 'Hide and Seek.' I think it came out pretty well, so if you want to see it, please watch it here: www. youtube .com/watch?v=JnG-Y909ay4

Please review!


	9. His Home

His grandfather's house was a grand affair, quite a sight to see as it rose over the hill. Sebastian drove them steadily toward it, maneuvering the silent car with ease.

His young master hadn't said a word since the phone call had ended, except to tell Sebastian where his grandfather lived.

The gates were opened by a radio control, and they traversed the driveway, coming to a stop in front of the steps. Sebastian got out first, removing the umbrella from the passenger seat and opening Ciel's door for him.

The boy stepped out.

The house's front door was opened for them, and Sebastian kept the umbrella over Ciel until the boy was completely inside. When he stepped in, he saw three people – servants, most likely – and an old man who could be none other than Ciel's grandfather.

"Grandpa Tanaka," Ciel said quietly. "Hello."

"Ho ho ho, hello, Ciel. I'm sorry that the reason for your visit is so sad." He stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Sebastian's charge, hugging him tightly. "I'm so sorry."

When they pulled away, Tanaka turned to face the demon. "You must be Sebastian. We've heard a lot about you." He held out his hand, and Sebastian took it.

"We?" the demon inquired.

"Yes, my assistants and me. There on the right is Marlene, the housekeeper. In the middle is Finley, the groundskeeper. That's Bardolph, the cook, on the left."

"P-pleased to meet you!" stuttered out the maid, adjusting her glasses and giving a short bow.

"Hello," Finley said with a smile, playing with the cord that kept his hat around his neck.

"Sorry we have to meet now," Bardolph sighed, toying with his unlit cigarette.

"So am I," said Sebastian, but there were untold depths of both happiness and aggravation in his voice that made the servants blink.

"Young master, we've prepared your room for you. It's right this way!" said Marlene, hopping up the stairs nervously. "If you want, that is."

"Yes. I would like to…sleep. Come along, Sebastian."

The maid led the way up the stairs, nervously checking behind her every few minutes to make sure they were still following.

Outside, the wind whipped violently through the English countryside, but they were safe here inside the manor on the outskirts of London. And as Ciel paused at the top of the stairs and turned to glance down into the entry hall, everything seemed to glow.

Not with harsh electric light, no, but with the soft glow of candlelight.

Sebastian laid his hand on Ciel's shoulder and leaned in to press a kiss to the boy's head.

"Welcome home, Earl."

* * *

One more, folks. (Well, TECHNICALLY two, but...)

Please review!


	10. His Question

***~*~***

"_**So, how do you know that the two men existed?"**_

**_*~*~*_**


	11. His Life, Happily Ever After

The ornate desk in front of him was littered with papers. There were contracts that needed to be signed, and letters that needed to be read, but those weren't what held the young man's attention.

Twenty years old, Ciel Phantomhive sat in his chair and contemplated the man standing before him. The vest, pocket watch, and crow-tailed coat were long familiar, as were the white gloves that hid the slender hands from view.

The smile was perhaps the most familiar of all.

"Sebastian," Ciel said suddenly, rising from his chair. "I've solved your ridiculous riddle."

"Oh? And what riddle would that be, Master?" asked the demon, smile slipping into a smirk as he watched the man stand.

"'If two strangers pass in the middle of the night on an empty street and exchange no words, but each give the other a token and brush hands, how do we know that the men existed?'" Ciel gave Sebastian his own smirk and walked around the desk.

"Given the parameters that have been set, in this situation there is no way to know if the two men were ever real."

"Certainly that is not your answer—"

Ciel grabbed Sebastian by the tie and pulled him forward.

"The only way to know that the two men existed is for them to meet again."

He kissed him.

"Now, go get me my tea."

* * *

The end! I have to say, I'm particularly fond of this story. It's one of my deeper ones, and it has a lot of pretty phrases in it. I just generally love it a lot.

But how about you? Review!


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